Til I Fell In Love With You
by EllieBear75
Summary: Question: Did Piz know what happened to Logan after Veronica left Hearst? Answer: Yes. Yes he did. *Missing scene. One shot. TV and Movie compliant. My own head canon.* Written for the VMHQ "No Fireworks Week."


Every time Veronica pressed her lips to her wine glass, to take another sip of Chianti, a shiver went down Piz's spine. How many nights had he thought of her lips on his, over the years? He had lost track. And now, here she was, sitting across the table from him in an intimate little Italian restaurant, just blocks away from her apartment.

Lowering her glass, Veronica lingered for a moment, her manicured nails tapping the base of the wine stem, eyes fixed on her empty tiramasu cup.

"This was…nice," she said quietly, not making eye contact.

"Yeah," Piz offered, his heart jumping in his chest. "It was."

"So," she drawled, glancing up at him momentarily as she flipped her long blond hair from her face. "Ever run into anyone else from Hearst? You know...besides Wallace and Mac?"

Piz gave a little chuckle and took another sip of his wine.

Eight years after breaking up, he and Veronica were reunited last week, when Wallace came to town for a visit. Veronica was originally miffed by the news that Wallace chose to stay with Piz and his roommate in their two bedroom apartment, instead of Veronica's tiny bachelor suite, and there was some initial awkwardness as the three of them ventured out to explore New York City. Gradually, over the week, Piz noticed Veronica soften to his jokes, even touching his arm, now and then as they spoke.

Two days after Wallace left, Piz summoned up the courage to call Veronica and ask her on an actual date. To his delight, she accepted. And so, here they were, years later, living out a date Piz never expected would ever happen in either of their lifetimes.

"I mean, I'm still amazed we never ran into each other," Veronica joked with a flirty flip of her hand.

"New York being so small and all," Piz replied, his eyes finally catching hers. They both shared a throaty laugh.

"Well, you know what they say," she continued, taking a quick glance around the room at the other patrons. "Millions of people in the world and you are always bound to somehow manage to run into an ex somewhere."

A lump formed in Piz's throat and he took a final long sip of his wine to wash it away. "Yeah. It's amazing who you run into, now and then."

 **7 years prior...**

"You're going to get us killed, man!" Wallace yelled above the pounding heavy metal music.

"No! It's cool! We'll be fine!" Piz yelled back as they pushed their way through the crowd towards the bar.

The roadside dive smelled of rotting wood and stale beer, punctuated by the astringent pierce of cleaning chemicals – a mingling smell that fooled your brain. Piz's search for the "next great band" had led them to some interesting places around southern California, but this one was by far the wildest. The dress code seemed to be jeans and tattoos – for both the women and men – and Piz instantly regretted his choice of a Polo shirt and khakis for this outing.

"Speak for yourself, white-boy! I don't see a lot of brothers in this joint," Wallace replied, casting a worried glance over his shoulder.

"Stick with me, you'll be fine," Piz said an continued towards the bar.

"Not really a comfort," Wallace said and hurried through the crowd.

Pressing himself against the brass rail around the old oak bar, Piz saluted the bartender to get his attention. The burly man responded by turning his mouth into a sneer and narrowing his eyes. Piz's eyes ran over the length of his sizable arms, taking in the sleeve of tattoos running up the bartender's arm, looping around the man's thick neck, and down the other arm. Slamming down the pint he just poured, the bartender ambled over to Piz.

"You military, boy?" he growled across the bar at Piz, leaning in so the smell of his chewing tobacco sliced their senses.

"No," croaked Piz, leaning back away from the bar slightly.

"Then don't you go saluting an old marine!" he hollered.

Piz took a deep breath. "Sorry, sir. Won't happen again."

The man arched an eyebrow at Piz, glancing between him and Wallace for a moment. "Whatdaya want?"

"To talk to the band…if possible," Piz croaked. "I'm a DJ at Hearst and I wanted to interview them."

A low laugh came from the back of the bartender's throat. "College brats," he muttered and turned his back to them, walking towards the bottles lining the back of the wall. Grabbing a clear bottle in he shape of a skull, he swept up two shot glasses and returned to Piz and Wallace, slamming each glass on the bar in front of them. Pulling the cork from the head of the skull, he splashed an ounce in each shot glass.

"Drink!" he ordered with a sneer, replacing the cork roughly.

Piz glanced at Wallace, catching the wide eyed look of fear in his friend's face. Nodding to each other, they turned back to the bar and, in unison, picked up the glasses. With a silent prayer he wouldn't throw up, Piz pounded back the fiery liquid, closing his eyes against the burn as it raced towards his stomach.

"Twenty for the drinks," the bartender stated. "And I'll see if they want to talk to you pussies."

Opening his eyes to blink back the tears that were appearing, Piz reached around in his back pocket for his wallet. Extracting a $20 bill, he lifted his shot glass and placed the money on the bar, anchoring it with the glass. The bartender grabbed the money and glasses with his large hand and swept it behind the bar, before ambling off to pull a pint.

"Does this mean we're going to see them?" Wallace asked, slapping Piz on the shoulder.

"No clue," Piz muttered, his eyes skimming the rim of the bar, checking out the patrons in the hopes of seeing one of the band members.

His eyes landed on the smirking face of the barfly taking up space in the far corner of the bar. The man's eyes narrowed and he reached up to scratch his scruffy face. A rush of anxiety ran through Piz as he recognized the face underneath the shaggy brown hair.

"Logan," Wallace said, giving voice to the shock Piz was feeling.

Logan ran his hands through his hair, brushing his unkempt oily mop from his face. He leaned towards the buxom brunette standing next to him and yelled something before rising from his stool. He rubbed his nose quickly with the back of his hand before grabbing his beer bottle and making his way around the bar towards the Piz.

"He looks like shit," Wallace said to no one in particular.

As Logan approached, Piz focused on Wallace's assessment. Logan's bloodshot, puffy eyes were fixed on Piz, but there was nothing behind them. _Dead_. Piz remembered those eyes on the faces of the stoners and burnouts in high school. Logan rubbed his nose again, his eyes shifting side to side rapidly. It was now that Piz could see how they sunk into his skull. The roundness of Logan's face was lost to a gaunt, pale sheath, and his clothes, that once hugged his muscular body, hung on him like a human hanger. There was something dried and caked on his navy blue t-shirt. Blood? Was it his or someone else's?

Logan landed in front of them and gave each a smirk and a nod before speaking.

"What the fuck are you two doing here?" Logan growled, a twisted grin pulling on his face. "You're gonna get yourselves killed in a place like this."

Wallace smacked Piz's shoulder with the back of his hand. "See! Told you! Let's go, Piz. No band is worth this."

Logan let out a loud, exaggerated laugh. "Listen to Wally, Pizzy-Piz. No Veronica around to save your ass anymore. Best be off."

"What the hell are you doing here?" The question sprang from Piz's mouth before he had time to think.

Logan reached around his head, his hand rubbing the back of his thin neck. "You don't find the good drugs at the Yacht Club. Biff and Miffy would think it unseemly."

Piz's mouth dropped open and he exchanged glances with Wallace before focusing on Logan once more.

"What happened to you, man?" he said, his eyes running over Logan's frame.

A deep chuckle rose from Logan's throat and he reached out his hand toward Piz. Piz's instincts kicked in and jumped a bit at the memory of the last time Logan's large hands grabbed him - just before beat the shit out of Piz. But instead, Logan's palm landed on Piz's chest. His eyes running the length of Logan's arm, Piz caught a glimpse of needle tracks, deep in his skin

Logan patted Piz's sternum before stepping so close Piz could smell the Budwiser on his breath.

"Veronica is what happened," Logan hissed. "This is what loving a woman like Veronica Mars can do to a man."

Piz's eyes widened and he glanced over at Wallace, who frowned at the mention of his best friend's name falling from Logan's lips.

"This is what happens, when Veronica Mars loves you," he rambled, deep lines appearing around his smirking mouth. "See, Piz, you got off lucky. She never let you in before she ran off. Not completely. I know because if she did, you would be drinking with me at the end of that bar. Because it's hard…it's hard to get past Veronica's defenses. But when you do – if you do – it's better than any drug there is."

Piz's eyes went wide. He knew what Logan was saying was true. He felt it from the moment he had met Veronica. There was something so beautifully unobtainable that Piz was drawn to her, just to try and unlock whatever secrets she seemed to hold.

"To be loved by her is the most amazing feeling in the world," Logan continued, his eyes becoming glassy with memory. "Because you know, you are special. That she granted you this gift of her love - something she doesn't give to just anyone. And when she takes that away, it's like someone has ripped out your soul."

"Hey man," Wallace said, putting his hand on Logan's shoulder. "It wasn't her fault you slept around."

Logan's eyes darted to the side, and Piz felt a surge of fear for Wallace.

"You know that's bull-shit!" He yelled too loudly above the noise of the bar. "She was done with me and she was just finding an excuse to run." Logan's crazy eyes turned towards Piz. "Because that's the other hard truth of loving Veronica: when she decides she's done with you, she's done. And there is nothing on earth that will bring her back."

Logan stepped back and took a swig of his beer. "Consider yourself lucky, Piznarski. You got off easy. Trust me."

Piz felt Wallace's hand on his collarbone and he turned towards his friend. Wallace's eyes were narrow and sad. "Let's go man."

Piz nodded his understanding. Turning back towards Logan, he caught the back of his head as Logan disappeared into the bar crowd.

The two friends quickly made their way through the sea of people once more, heading towards the exit. Once outside they both gasped in the cold night air under the light of the flashing blue neon bar sign.

"What the ever-loving fuck -?" Piz exclaimed, gesturing his hands wildly back towards the bar.

Wallace shook his head, crossing his arms over his body. "That was messed up. So messed up."

"I almost didn't recognize him," Piz said, glancing back toward the frond door incase Logan followed them.

"Dude is in rough, rough shape," Wallace said. "I've know him for a long time. He didn't look that rough after his mom or his dad died. But Veronica –"

There was a moment of silence as Piz ran through everything Logan said about Veronica. Apparently Piz dodged some sort of bullet, when Veronica left, and deep down, he seemed to know it. Just the little time they spent together had managed to secure Veronica in that special place in Piz's mind as "the one that got away." And even though they never made it past making out, he dreamed of her constantly, imagining what would have happened if they did go all the way.

"We gotta tell her," Piz murmured.

"What? You mean Veronica? No way!" Wallace said, shaking his hands in rejection if the idea. "That's a stupid idea."

"Why?" Piz replied, his forehead wrinkling in thought.

"Look, if I tell V about this, then one of three things will happen," Wallace said. "One: she rushes back to 'save' him and they get back together, which is a bad idea. Two: she decides to rush back and save him and can't, so she carries the fallout from his stupid self-distructive behaviour with her for the rest of her life. Or three: she does nothing and the decision eats her alive. Trust me. I know her. And I know him. And I know _them_ together. Logan has been on this course for most of his life. It is inevitable. And no one and nothing will stop him."

Piz let out a deep sigh. "You're right. I know you're right. I'll just let it go."

Wallace nodded, his lips pressed to a serious line. "I'm never going to tell her. And I hope to God, if you ever see her, you won't either."

Piz nodded quietly. Reaching into his pocket, he fished out his car keys and the two made their way to his car in silence.

 **7 years later...**

"So you still haven't answered my question." Veronica giggled. "Have you run into anyone else from Hearst?"

Piz's mind snapped back to the present. "No. No, I haven't," he murmured.

Veronica pressed her lips together and nodded. Piz noticed a look of sadness flash through her eyes ever so briefly before her smile returned.

"Do you want to come back to my place for some coffee and conversion?" she said softly, her soft blue eyes fixed on Piz.

 _To be loved by her is the most amazing feeling in the world…. And when she takes that away, it's like someone has ripped out your soul._

Logan's voice came haunting back in Piz's brain. Was it true? Was this what loving Veronica Mars was really like? Was he willing to take that chance?

"Yeah," Piz replied with a smile. "I'd like that. A lot."


End file.
